Becky Boyle

Hawkins Per. 4


Gananoque Lake, Canada

Before the sun

Has hauled its body

Over the Earth,

We head out,

Hopeful fishers in wilderness.

We slip offshore onto the lake of gray glass

To a secret location

That my father learned

From his father, who learned

From his father.

Out on the boat,

We are the first people on Earth

Save the casual call of a loon.

Casting poles into the water in anticipation

Of dragging up jeweled fish

Like treasures

The color of silver coins in water,

And sink away into murkiness.

Late in the evening,

The sun meanders

Through hues of gold and pink

Ready to retreat west again.

We approach an island

With a lone dead tree

That stands sentinel,

Watching us

Gather our hoards of fish.